VIBGYOR

Parting - no! "de"parting friends

In her latest post a blogger writes about the growing distance with a friend.

I thought I will go through the same with Wannabe as we got involved in our own lives - but then we started chatting again and now we are back regularly in touch...

I have gone through the quite severe cuts with 2 of them - I found one of them back again. One of them and I had been friends since we were 4 years old and kept the same level of friendships inspite of living in different cities (our parents used to despair about the telephone bills) until I went to study away from home - I used to send her letters to which I never received any replies and after her marriage I even stopped trying - later I found this was at a time when she needed a friend the most but never had a chance to ask since she was restricted. Now we are back in touch again and I am happy to get to talk to her.

The second one is irrepairable now and the coldness when we meet kills me each time we meet even accidently. I am now going through the 3-rd one and I keep trying not to let it go and I think that strengthens the power with which it gets severed. I fear it is going down to the same level as the 2-nd one - I hope not but there comes the "self-respect" part after a certain time.

In her blog, she writes at the end "It hurts that she doesn’t want anything to do with me, that she finds it so easy to just dismiss the times we spent together. Worst of all it haunts me that I never tried hard enough to keep in touch with her."

Dear blogger who wrote this, I just want to tell you based on my latest experience which I am going through now - if you tried hard enough to keep in touch with her, would she not just try even harder to cut you off? or rather are you not exposed to the rejection even more as you try to maintain the relationship? What about the hurt associated with rejection and the lack of respect? Don't you wonder - What are the reasons?

I also wonder - "do those moments we spent together mean nothing at all?" I mean, why are we the ones always trying?

Retirement

What do I want to do after retiring? My grandfather's brother reminded me this morning. There are so many shoes to fill and a lot to prepare for - specially after reading these early morning:

A.S Damodaran Asan, who had been M.L.C, District Judge,Division Peshkar ( District Collector) , First revenue Board Member, Excise Commissioner and Devaswom Board President and NSS President, settled down at Chennithala after his retirement. He focused his attention for the development of his village. Because of his far sightedness and secular outlook, he realized that his village could progress further only through the education of the younger generation. It was he who founded the No.3553 Karshaka Sangam, which has now become the leading Service Co-operative Bank in Alappuzha district. He discussed his idea of establishing a High School at Chennithala with some people who had the same vision and outlook.

Damodaran Asan A.

Born June 25, 1896. Father: Chennithala Mangatt Mutt Eswaran Naboodiri. Mother: Ambalappat Lekshmi Amma. Damodaran Asan is the nephew of Rayinkal Sankaran Asan who adventurously tried to put an end to the evil practices in the society. He was elected as a member of Sree Moolam Assembly and Travancore Legislative Assembly for 9 years. He served as Diwan Peshakar, Excise Commissioner, and Revenue Board Member. He was the first Chairman of Kerala Financial Corporation and President of Travancore Dewaswom Board. He became the President of NSS twice. Died in 1968

Ampalapattu A.S Damodaran Asan 

Was a member of a famous family named Ampalapattu. He was born in 1071 Mithunam. His father was Sri Puthillathu Madathil Eswaran Namboothiri and mother was Ampallapattu Sreedevi Kunjamma.
After having his Primary education he completed his matriculation in Mannar Nair Samajam Engilish School. After that he completed B.A degree in Madras Presidency College. Then he took his B.L Degree from Thiruvanathapuram Law College. He Practiced as a Lawyer in the district court Kollam.He was elected as a member of Sreemoolam Assembly three times. Later he entered in to Govt:Service as Consilliation Officer. After that he worked as State Rationing Officer, District Judge, Division Peshkar, Excise Commissioner, Revenue Board First Member etc. Counting on his character he had won the affection of Divan Sir.C.P Ramaswamy Iyer and other democratic Goverments.

He had Retired, after completing his service as Revenue board member. After that he became the Devaswom Board President and N.S.S President. He continued his Service until His Death(1967)

After settling at chennithala, he along with some other honorable persons laid the foundation of Mahatma High School in 1953.
Now this school is the shining star of chennithala

D. Appukuttan Nair (1924-94) 

An outstanding theatre personality devoted to the revival of traditional purity in the much treasured art forms of Kathakali and Kutiyattom. He showed the way to sustain perennial interest in these art forms by recourse to innovation through poetic treatment and explored new dimensions in the aesthetics of the art forms. With this objective he penned supplementary choreography to important plays like Nalacharitham, Banayudham etc. His monumental contribution to Kutiyattom was the founding of Margi Kutiyattom centre in Thiruvananthapuram along with the maestro Ammannur Madhava Chakyar and revived the centuries-old art from retaining its traditional repertoire which had almost disappeared from the stage by then. A specialist engineer by profession, he built two Koothambalams; one at Kerala Kalamandalam, Thrissur and the other at Kalakshethra in Chennai. He was also a member of the executive committee of Sangeet Natak Akademi, New Delhi and an advisor to the Government of Kerala on cultural affairs.

"To "hyperbolise" is the very essence of Kathakali" - I wish I could find all those articles he wrote sitting on his easy chair after reading lying in bed surrounded by books and papers.

(the Koothambalam at Kerala Kalamandalam)

"I do not think that the theatre is to be designed for mere spectators as audience. It should be
designed for appreciators who go beyond their sense of vision and hearing, into the realm of involvement with the performer: Where the mind, with its aesthetic sensibility makes the appreciator a participant in the performance rather than a formally, rigidly seated spectator who uses only his external senses of seeing and hearing. . ." he said.

 

US Election and influences

Having a family in the US ensures that I am completely involved in the US election activities. With a sister volunteering as a County Chairperson for the Obama Campaign, I hear about every up and down and the emotional upheavals in the life of Obama volunteers. I have heard her argue strongly for Obama long before Obama was a known force and a few older generations indulging the young blood "fantasies". Sometimes when the elders in the Indian Diaspora started getting into heated debates with her, my father would step in to support Obama in his own calm way.

All through this, my little nephew maintained his own independent view - he was for Hilary Clinton and subsequently for Sarah Palin. At this age he already knew his preferences and where beauty lay in his eyes.

So two days back there was an election in his school and the small children had to select their own President. He came back home holding a few electoral knick knacks.

My mother: "So what happened in school today?"

Nephew: "We elected the President"

My mother: "You voted?"

Nephew: "Yeah". (He is quite a silent person and you have to dig out the details if you are one of the family - much to my family's consternation, if anyone else other than family asks there will come a barrage of details).

My mother: "So whom did you vote for?" (In her mind she was sure it was going to be the McCain-Palin ticket).

Nephew: "I voted for Obama".

My mother was delighted - finally perhaps all the discussions at home had paid off and he had stopped paying attention to the X factor. - "Why?"

Nephew: "Mommy likes Obama and does work for Obama".

Well, I think his girl friends or wife will have a stiff competition going ahead.

Distances and curiousities

I opened my mails this morning while dealing with insomnia.

I glared at a mail which said “80 Euros Flight gift certificate” from Opodo. I click on the link ....

....and there was the next one “New York for €299”….

I looked at it and looked at it and then sighed. I had just booked my tickets to New York at a much higher price a couple of weeks back for Parmanu’s and my first holiday together at my parent’s place since 2003.

……………….

Yep… It is 5 years since my husband and I went together to visit my parents. All my parents friends think that my parents are hiding something with respect to my marital status since they never see the two of us together.

My parent’s friends are not the only ones – a couple of weeks back:

A friend: “How are you?”

Me: “I am fine…”

(You know the usual pleasantries..)

She: “How about a movie this weekend?”

Me: “Oh… Parmanu is here this weekend – so I think I would prefer to spend my time with him. We get so less time together”.

She: “How about next weekend?”

Me: “I am off to Germany – looking forward to it so much”.

(You see a justification pattern here… but that is not what I was talking about).

She: “Oh… that is so nice. If you had not been looking forward to these visits I would have wondered about the two of you – whether you were separated or thinking about it”.

Uh Uh Uh… I am glad she mentioned it out loud. Perhaps many think that and not mention it.

In anycase, Parmanu visited my parents last year in between an official trip. My parents use his availability to fix all their technical computer related problems. Nevermind that in Germany we have about 3 PCs and one monitor that are not working and he is trying out his 100-th Wifi modem with no success since we have a really special internet provider. So there he was on a Saturday morning in front of their PC in the basement on the telephone with the Sony call center trying to fix my parents problems.

A friend of my mother’s from her school days had dropped in.

Auntyji: “R…, so what about Colours and Parmanu?”

Mummyji: “They are fine” (always cryptic and knowing how much Parmanu loves his solitude).

Auntyji with the dreaded question: “Don’t they want any children?”

Mummyji – a little untruthfully – “Oh H…, I do not really ask them. You know the children these days”.

Auntyji, who has children with minds of their own having grown up in the Unites States, different from her own when she was young, empathized – “ Of course, but they are also staying apart for so long. Should she not move back?”

Uh! WHY SHOULD I MOVE BACK? Can they not ask the other way round?

Mummyji: “All in due time” – with a patience she never exhibits with me (uh.. I must say she has been most supportive of my living in Brussels).

Auntyji: “Parmanu never comes here….”

Mummyji – jumping at the chance: “He is downstairs now – I think he is doing something on the computer”.

Auntyji: “Oh..”

Later my mom was in the kitchen Auntyji walked down the cellar stairs – something she has never done before. Parmanu looked up from the telephone to see an unexpected apparition walking down.

Auntyji: “Oh.. Hello Parmanu”.

Parmanu, who hates multitasking, with the telephone in hand half the sentence through “Hello”

And pointed to the telephone….

Auntyji ran back up – in my mother’s words “After having ensured there really exists a son-in-law. Never mind that he also was completely engrossed in the computer strangely non-communicative in her terms”.

Auntyji: "... They never come together?".

- So my mother has planned huge party for all her friends this time when we are there. As you see it is a sensitive topic on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean.

………

Swades - my country

One of my favourite movies is Swades. I can watch it million times and still not get bored with it. Though there are some reviews which talk of it being like a documentary, it is precisely this slow pace and the depiction of the village life that attract me to this movie. I specially love the song "Saawariya" for the scenes where the rural Indian life is shown - the part that always made me want to spend long time in the "real" rural part of India.

 

We have a house in a village in Kerala. We used to go to this house when we were small children. My parents belong to a huge family with close ties and we were the nuclear family living in cities and towns visiting our great-grandmothers in the village during the holidays. We looked forward to these visits. Every visit meant a confluence of all cousins around the sametime - it was also the time when the families working for my great-grandmothers in the house used to make different special dishes (which I have not seen since - like Madakkusaan). They used to make huge biscuit tins full of sweets , bananachips, murukku, mango pickles and so on. These used to be kept in dark rooms around the kitchens.

 

All the families around there had children of our age. These children used to get together in one wing at the south end of the house - not used much nowadays. There was a small stage on top of which we used to pray all together in the evenings. In the mornings, these used to be summer school for all the children around. We used to join these classes to learn numbers, mathematics and malayalam. We had slates on which we wrote with a slate pencil (chalk was a luxury) and we used to wipe the slates clean with a weed which we picked before the classes.

 

When we were not in these classes, we used to run around the place fishing in one of the three ponds, climbing the haystacks, going to the fields and sometimes escaping the eyes of the elders and running to the houses of one of the families working in the house. They used to be small houses like the ones in Swades and dark inside. They invited us inside and treated us to some eatables, gave us a chair to sit. The families lived on of one the plots next to the house and all their families, had small houses around the house. All these relatives used to come to see these city bred aliens and to talk to us. We were absolutely thrilled to have the attention and always looking for small children we could run around with.

 

In the evenings, we used to go to the family temple about a kilometer walk away. We crossed fields and reached the temple. There were distant relatives living there and all wanted to talk to us and invited us into their homes. We had some festivals in this temple - each one had a special feeling and a colourful unique atmosphere to it. As you might watch in the movie Manichithrathaazhu ( remade in Hindi as Bhool Bhulayya), ghost figures locked into rooms closed by chants filled locks were normal life - the family temple also had shrines which were locked not to be opened. We had rituals in the temples which were to make sure that the spirits were at rest. We had small vans, autorickshaws which used to announce movies that were running in the nearby town. The fairs and the festivities from the temples which visited the different houses with elephants and the dieties.

 

Many images in Swades remind me of these trips to the house which now waits for the family to come back and claim it (though I have not been to a panchayat and many other things). When we go there now, the house stands forelorn, the families which took care of us have lost some of the last people who took care of us when we were young (Leelamma who passed away when I was at IMD was one of them). Their next generation had to search for other jobs as the family scattered and as my grandfather was the only one who remained and subsequently his illness made him leave for the city as well. Now when we go there we go for an evening, visit the temple, look at the house, hope to come back and renovate it and live back there. It is a dream - a dream combined with the dreams I saw falling apart when I left India - of taking vacations to travel around rural India visiting villages, visiting festivals in the villages celebrated as they should be celebrated.

 

A different version of the dream lives now - we visit rural Europe - as in Kerala (in comparison to other parts in India), the difference between a town and village is quite blur. One day, I would like to live my real dream - I know I do not need to shift back to India - I just need to spend my vacations at the right place.

 

 

Love & blindness

A picture came up in the photoframe. A mother and father sat with their son in the middle. The conversation:

Father: "Mummy looks very beautiful in this picture".

Son: "Mummy always looks beautiful".

Mother: "No one looks as nice as our son does - look at his smile - he looks so handsome".

Father: "Of course, he looks very nice but you look very beautiful. I look old".

Son: "Daddy, you look very nice in this picture".

Mother: "You look nice but our son looks the best".

.....

Talk about emotions clouding judgement.

Voyeurism - my latest past time

We have an apartment in Bangalore. Recently, the apartment association member sent me a mail inviting me to join their yahoogroups. Her signature said: "Vice President of the <apartment name> Association". Since then I have been receiving mails from the yahoo groups on different topics.

I have now been watching a community come alive under me. Having moved out of India, with lot of regrets, these mails take me right back into the life that I am missing living out of India. One of the mails said "The Gym trainer agrees to stay back without an increase in rate" and another one talked about the roads in front of the apartment and the MLA being a proactive one to take action on the pathetic conditions of the roads. This morning a resident noticed that one of the guards of a Block was sleeping - he raised his indignation at the pathetic conditions under which the guards have to work for the security firm and implored the "Association" to raise the matter with the security firm. Another one talked about the cleanliness of the common area and yet another discussion took place on the logistics of moving the trolley back to its source after usage. A resident on the first floor took up the case of blaring horns and the reverse alert sounds which keep him awake all night.

The change in library day made me miss all those facilities that I could have used if I was staying miles away - the news on the tennis lessons made me wonder - what would I have done if I was staying at home in this apartment as the mother of two children? I would surely take them for the poetry classes on Sunday the 13-th and search for a poem of not more than 8-12 lines. The Science classes would be something that I could keep myself busy with - I could instill in these children a love for Physics (though sometimes I wonder whether anyone wants to learn things for love or for getting an admission and excellent marks in class).

The latest issue in this small community is the upcoming elections for the associations - there are no nominations. The deadlines have been extended - would I have stood for this election? I do not think so...

Looks like no one else wants a promotion to be able to add to their signature "Vice President of the <apartment name> Association".

Oh! and why on earth do I not know anyone here who plays "Ladies Throw Ball"? Hope the rain gods will be with the ladies who plan this for the evening at 6 p.m...

Different kinds of disappointments

Sometimes you feel you understand some people and they understand you. At such times, you are disappointed the minute you realize that is not the case.

Sometimes you feel that some jobs are meant for you and when you realize that that is exactly the kind of work you are beginning to run away from, then you are disappointed that you were following the wrong path. I am not yet reaching this stage but I wonder whether this is showing those signs.

Then there are some of those days when you are disappointed because you just did not do what you wanted to do all evening.

and then.... well... it is Friday the 13-th. Perhaps one becomes stronger after facing all these disappointments.
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... but then there is the smell of the fresh cut leaves as I cross the highway where they are trimming the trees...

... and then there is the smell of fresh rain on starved and thirsty ground

... and then there is the smell of petrol as I stand at the fuel station filling my tank - remember nowadays this is a very expensive smell.

... and then there is the smell of a great fish curry cooking in the same style as your mother and grandmother used to make for you.....

... and then you wonder - what are disappointments? - those are all just people related - there is the nature and memories to compensate for all those - even the friendships and interactions that have faded away disappointing you still leave those moments of fun and laughter which cannot be taken away - even if it means similar moments may not come again.

.... Looking forward to the lake, the mountains and those lovely friends who stayed back and who were drawn back to that wonderful city.

Time moves....

... or we move.

I saw a mail sent by an aunt to my father "You celebrated your Shashtipoorthi" - she said. He celebrated his 60-th birthday yesterday.

"Acca", as I call him because I could not pronounce "Acha", is my favouritest man in the world. Even my husband never had a doubt about that. There was even that one time when I chose Acca over him. Many a times Parmanu has mentioned that I have a father fixation. "All your interest in bald old men come because of father fixation" - says the young one who has been trying for the last 9 years.

So when I saw this mail, though I knew yesterday that it was his 60-th birthday,  I was stumped.  I still remember the day  my  grandfather, his  father, had celebrated Shashtipoorthi in 1980. It just seemed like yesterday. Then there was the grand celebration by my grandmother who loved celebrations. All these events stood out.

Yet, when my favourite person reached his milestone I was far away. Time once gone does not come back and it moves fast. I hope I am there when he reaches his next milestone - I think 84-th birthday is another significant one. After my experience with why I stayed back this time - I shall make sure that I shall be there next time.

Ghosts in the graveyard

I went to visit the Fete Du Port in Brussels today. On the way back I was loathe to go back home so early.

So I wandered around Louise trying to kill some ghosts which I expected were dead but they start waking up everytime I am in the graveyard. I walk into one of the cafes there and avoid taking the chairs which face the wall in front of the restaurant. I take the high seating chair near the wall but facing the street. A girl plays hide and seek with her mother who is sitting outside in the sun. She runs below my chair and around the chairs next to me and smiles a toothless smile at me.

I smiled a distracted smile at her. Two ghosts, in their black coats , are sitting facing the walls on the high chairs behind me having lunch - they are talking. I cannot hear what they are talking - yet a shiver runs down my spine and I want to get up and run away. Even on this summer day I am cold - I am glad I chose a sweat shirt defying all my sense. I sit resolutely and try to remove my attention from the ones behind. I finally succeed in focusing on the scenes outside and the sun outside. Yet, absent mindedly I finish my snack... - it is a long time since I stepped in here. I manage to eat all and leave.

I come home and post the "Picture of the day" in Taupixels. Ever since I have started going partially manual with the camera (I use the aperture change mode and have not yet started experimenting with the fully manual mode), it is a challenge to get the lighting correct. I must say I have been more successful than I expected.

Last evening in the Zinneke, people stared at me and my camera with its very long lens. I smiled back at them. Today there were not so many people.

After posting the picture, I logged into facebook and saw the status of my friends.... !!!